


The Boss

by sb_essebi



Series: Whouffaldi one-shots [14]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Anniversaries, Blindfolds, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Going on Dates, Light BDSM, Orgasm Denial, Strip Tease, gentle dom!12, kink fullfillment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2019-02-01 09:26:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12702036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sb_essebi/pseuds/sb_essebi
Summary: prompt by apollostowel: Have you ever thought of a prompt where 12 turns the tables on the Boss, where he doesn't let her take control at all? Not like he's jealous, just a consensual thing between them. It would assume that they've had a relationship for a while. Maybe like an anniversary night or something.





	The Boss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Apollostowel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apollostowel/gifts).



It's the night before Christmas. Not outside, of course, just in Clara's timeline. Outside the TARDIS it's mid-51st century, a beautiful starry night at the end of July, the lights of a small romantic restaurant disappearing behind their backs as the Doctor opens the doors of the time machine. 

He's quick to send them in the Time Vortex and to turn towards her, his gaze running for a moment over her shoulders that her dress leaves exposed.

"Tonight. Was it good?" he asks, with a smirk. He already knows the answer, but he wants to hear it.

"It was perfect," Clara smiles, kissing the corner of his mouth.

It's one year tonight, one year of them. One year since one tentative kiss melting into another, and another, and into searching hands and whispered pleas and frantic lovemaking on the floor, more or less where they are standing now.

"You'll have to change your mind. I'm about to make it even better."

He bends to kiss down her neck, mouth open, tracing patterns on her skin with his tongue, spreading warmth through her body. Her eyes drift close as her hand finds his long hair and she tries to keep her legs from going completely weak. He's an unfairly good kisser, and she might have been distracted enough by his talent to tell him openly, a couple hundreds of times.

"Oh, really?" she manages.

"Oh, yeah," he whispers in her ear, gently biting a spot just below shortly after.

She turns in his arms and pulls him in a fierce kiss, tasting a hint of scotch.

It's not entirely like him to be so seductive, and she knows it's an act, a game, at least partly, but she can tell he's loving it. God knows if he hasn't a passion for bragging.

"Promises, promises. Will you deliver?" she teases.

"Don't I always?"

Unexpectedly, he lifts her effortlessly and hops her over his shoulder. She yelps involuntarily.

" _Doctor!_  Let me down!" She starts to giggle uncontrollably as she says it, and there's no way he's going to take her seriously.

"Not a chance. Tonight, Miss Oswald, I'm your boss."

~oOo~

" _Such a good boy." Clara runs her hand through the Doctor's hair, brushing grey curls damp with sweat off his forehead as he breathes heavily, fresh from a violent, shuddering orgasm. "You're so beautiful like this." She doesn't know why it's her thing but he looks so fucking perfect when he's completely naked, hands handcuffed behind his back, skin reddened and hot, eyes shut and head leaning against the backrest of the chair with exhaustion after hours spent begging her to let him come, not-so-secretly loving every time she said no. "Are you okay?"_

_He nods forcefully before another sharp breath. She kisses the top of his head sweetly, then frees him from the cuffs, kisses the bruises they've left._

" _Sometime…" she ponders, "just for once, maybe you could be the boss."_

" _Yeah?"_

_She enjoys control. Loves it, actually. But the idea of not knowing, of being in someone else's power, sounds heady if that someone is someone she trusts. If that someone is him._

" _Yes. Would you like that?"_

_He smiles. "Yeah. Yeah."_

~oOo~

The Doctor lays Clara on their bed, kissing her hard, his tongue warm in her mouth. It's extremely brief, though,  _too_  brief, and leaves her starving for more, but he slowly moves off her with a smile, never quite breaking eye contact, getting off the bed to stand near it. He towers over her, always, and more noticeably in this moment, and he knows she loves it. Loves how tall and thin he is, how sharp he looks in his best suit, the black one, with the elegant cravat and the thin white shirt.

"Undress for me," he requests. "Slowly," he adds when he catches the impish spark in her eyes as she rapidly reaches for the zipper of her dress. "Make me want you."

"Don't you always?" she teases.

He scoffs. She said she wanted him to be the boss, but she never said she would make it easy for him.

However, he doesn't respond to her bantering, and that's somehow a display of power too, in its own way.

He watches her scoop herself up to the centre of the bed, stand on her knees and tantalisingly caress her own body as she looks straight into his eyes, watching his pupils widen as her palms slide down her arms and then back up to meet at her sternum, parting ways again to squeeze her breasts lightly through the fabric of her dress. Her fingers tangle in its hem after she traces her sides, lifting the piece of clothing, revealing her upper thighs and just a glimpse of her underwear to him. She watches him shift his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

She never takes her eyes off his. She's still wondering what his game is, but apparently this -the eye sex- is part of it. 'I wish you were the one undressing me, touching me,' she tells him with her gaze, but if she has to be the one to do all the dirty work, she's bloody well going to have fun, and possibly give him a hard-on while she's at it.

Almost abruptly her hands disappear behind her back, unzipping her dress in one fluid move, letting it pool around her knees. The Doctor's mouth is slightly open by now, and she sees him linger on her bare breasts for a second before returning his gaze to hers, eyes wide and eyebrows raised with that wonder he reserves only for the most astounding beauty of the universe.

She smiles at his reaction and cups her breasts, massaging them briefly, eyes purposefully half-closed in only half-feigned pleasure, brushing her thumbs over her nipples that harden quickly thanks also to the cool air on her skin. She pinches them gently and moans a little, just for show. She goes as far as cupping her right breast and dip her head to lick at her nipple while she looks up at him and her other hand travels down to her stomach and to her knickers, pulling them down and wetting a finger in her arousal to circle her clit.

He's lightning-fast to get rid of his jacket and waistcoat and join her on the bed again, his hand closing around her wrist.

"Never said you could touch yourself," he half-growls.

He grabs her chin with his index and thumb and kisses her, his other hand firm on her arse, pulling her against him and letting her feel the very remarkable result of her efforts.

"You should have been more specific." He silences her with a new kiss, but his hands are busy this time, undoing his cravat. "I could do something about this," she murmurs seductively against his lips, her hand caressing up his thigh and briefly stroking over his erection, making him groan and push eagerly into her touch.

"Not yet," he states. "This is about you." He pulls back slightly and tugs his undone cravat from the collar of his shirt, eyes drifting down do his fingers as he toys with the fabric. "I'm going to blindfold you, okay?" He returns his eyes to hers. She nods enthusiastically as she grins, the thrill of not knowing exactly where this all is going sending a rush of adrenaline through her nervous system. "If you want me to stop, just tell me to."

She nods and takes him in for the last time as he teases her by brushing his cravat over her nose and her lips, making her shiver. She feels suddenly more aware that she's completely naked while he has most of his clothes still on, which only makes her want him more because she secretly loves his sense of fashion as much as his body, and maybe it's not much of a secret since she's lost count of the times she's insisted in shagging him fully clothed. Next he's tied the knot and she can't see a damn thing.

"Lie back, Clara."

Clara obeys, sitting down and then lying on her back, adjusting her position so her head finds one of the pillows. She parts her legs for him in an almost invitation because, hell, she wants him already. On the one hand she hopes he won't accept just now, because she doesn't want this game to end just yet, and on the other hand she  _knows_  he won't, because she knows how he wants, needs to see her eyes when they are making love. She's not sure how far he's going with the blindfold thing but it's temporary, she's nearly certain.

His weight shifts on the bed and she understands he's moving. Her fingers twist the sheets in her hands in anticipation. She jumps lightly when he kisses the corner of her mouth, she didn't realize at all that he was over her already. She closes her thighs a little to find his solid body between them. That's when he starts using his hands too, cupping her face, encouraging her to part her lips for him. He explores her mouth slowly, like it's the first time, in a wet kiss.

He proceeds following the line of her jaw with quick kisses, moving to her neck when she presses her head back to allow him better access, distributing a generous amount of sucking and of tongue in general that has her squirm beneath him and moan softly, hand grabbing his hair to try to hold him in place. He's quick to move then, and she squeaks when his lips find her navel suddenly, light but firm. It tickles, and her hips jerk upwards, her eyes widening under the blindfold.

She hasn't yet recovered when his hand lands flat on her stomach, holding her still, and his lips reappear on her left nipple, taking it in his mouth and sucking hard, making her cry out with the unexpected jolt of pleasure. His touch disappears again almost instantly and she lets out a frustrated sound. He chuckles. God, he's enjoying this. The bastard.

He bites her inner thigh. When did he get there? He takes her skin between his teeth and pulls gently, and it's a mixture of pleasure and pain.

"Ow! Doct-"

The rest of her sentence gets lost in a loud moan because the Doctor is now making splendid use of his tongue, alternating its tip hard against her clit to the base flat, lapping at her zealously, humming in approval when her legs tremble and she whimpers.

Being unable to see heightens her other senses, Clara realizes. Everything is more intense without the distraction of seeing, from the wonderful work of his tongue to the thin material of his shirt, silky against the backs of her thighs when he settles her legs over his shoulders. She can only feel and imagine, imagine the familiar sight of his hair slightly dishevelled peeking between her thighs and his shoulders tensed in concentration.

The Doctor focuses the efforts of his mouth on her clit, sucking gently, making her gasp as he slips one of his fingers inside her, slowly. She arches instinctively into his touch. She's tempted to bury her hands in his hair to grip him tight and tug him closer, but she's afraid he'll pull back again and is content to just clench her fists around the sheets instead, breath becoming irregular as her climax starts to approach quickly.

He's the one to do his fair amount of acting now, moaning appreciatively against her skin as she rocks her hips, following the fast and insistent rhythm he sets after adding a second finger inside her. He curls his fingers upwards as he thrusts in and out of her, searching for the spots where she's most sensitive, making her bite down on her lower lip and tighten her grasp on the sheets so much her knuckles hurt.

She has completely forgotten by now that she's blindfolded, her eyes are tightly shut anyway as pleasure takes charge, hot and intense and setting her nerves on fire, sweat starting to cover her skin. The Doctor knows exactly how to make her come in just a few minutes and she can already feel her orgasm close, so close, her muscles contracting around his fingers and soaking them. She tries to lean her hips more into his touch, desperate for release at this point, she's almost there, crying out his name.

" _Doctor_ \- God,  _yes_ , I'm almost-"

He drives his fingers out of her with a wet pop and kisses her hipbone. It takes Clara a few seconds to realize he doesn't lay a finger on her after that, his breath cool between her legs, teasing her. She doesn't want to believe he's actually going to do this, but simultaneously she knows he will.

"No. No. No no no no no. Please. Doctor."

How many times has she done the same thing? Countless.

"Yes, Clara?"

"Please."

She does grab his hair now, lost for words as her breath is still short, silently begging him to finish what he's started. He takes her hand in his, kisses it.

"Not yet. Only when I say so."

She can only whimper in frustration. "I hate you."

He chuckles and she feels his voice closer. His lips brush against hers chastely and he undoes the knot of his cravat, lets her look at him in the eyes. She glares at him and he smiles.

"You did ask for this."

"I still hate you," she says, but she pulls him close and kisses him, trying to ignore the throbbing need to come, her inner muscles contracting rhythmically around nothing.

He lets her deepen the kiss and she can taste herself as he shifts his body over hers, getting slightly lost in the kiss when she sucks on his lower lip and makes him moan. That's when she has an idea.

Silently, one hand tangled in his hair keeping him close and distracted in the kiss, she slides the other hand down her torso and between her thighs. In less than a second there's a bigger, stronger hand wrapped around her wrist. He breaks the kiss. Not so distracted, after all.

"What exactly do you think you're doing, Clara?" he whispers in her ear. The tone of his voice makes her shiver. He finds her other wrist and holds them together in his hand. Her wrists are thin enough for him to hold them firmly together, even though he can't close his fist completely around them. "I'll make sure you keep your hands where I can see them."

With his free hand he retrieves his cravat and starts to loop it around her wrists, watching her attentively as he does so, looking for a doubt or anything she's not telling him, but she can only smile. He's the one tied up normally, and she can't stop wondering what he's going to do next. This is an entirely new situation and it's even more exciting than she thought it would be.

The Doctor gently shifts her body closer to the headboard, then ties the other end of his cravat to it, her hands blocked above her head. He moves the pillow too until she adjusts her position and he's sure she's comfortable, then he retreats to the end of the bed and admires his work with a smirk. Her neck hurts for a moment in the effort of watching him, but she realizes almost immediately that she can use the headboard for leverage to lift her shoulders and look at him properly.

Locking eyes with her, he brings his fingers to his mouth and provocatively licks them clean, slowly, sending a new, hard tug of arousal straight to the base of her spine. She wonders idly if she could come just by watching him. The Doctor seems to read her thoughts somehow, because his lips curve in a smile while he nibbles at his middle finger. Maybe her need is just that evident in her eyes.

His graceful fingers undo the buttons of his shirt one by one with measured movements, then the garment is tugged out of his trousers and unhurriedly eased down his shoulders. He stands up to remove his shoes and socks and climbs back on the bed, standing on his knees between her thighs. He undoes his belt and makes a show of slowly pulling it from his trousers, letting the leather slide suggestively against her leg and making her breath get caught in her throat for a second. He tosses the belt on the floor however, and unzips his trousers. Clara lets her shoulders fall back down on the pillow in a mixture of frustration, arousal and disbelief: he's not wearing any underwear. All this time, when they were having dinner, when they were walking under the moonlight outside the restaurant, he wasn't wearing anything under his trousers. She has no idea why it's such a turn on to know this, it just is, and she's more impatient than ever to have him skin against skin again.

"Fuck," she murmurs. If she thought she couldn't get more frustrated than this, she was wrong.

"Language," he chuckles lightly.

To her silent surprise, he grabs her hips gently and turns her body so she's lying on her side, then lies down beside her, spooning her. For a moment she's confused, not sure about what exactly he wants to do, but it doesn't take her long to understand when his right hand lifts her leg so he can fit his hips between her thighs. His other arm sneaks under her body, around her, his head settles at her shoulders, his breath warm on her neck, his cock teasing her clit and the fabric of his trousers soft against her skin.

She smiles, letting out a sigh that melts into a small laugh. He's clever. So very clever. From this position and since he's so damn tall he can watch her face over her shoulder, or her profile at least, while at the same time taking her from behind, which feels like an inherently dominant position to her.

The Doctor rocks his hips forward leisurely, rubbing himself against her, tormenting them both in the sweetest way.

"Do you like my idea?" His voice is husky in her ear. He moves some of her hair out of the way nuzzling his head against it, then places a kiss to her now exposed neck. She moans softly. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch what you said."

He sucks and nibbles gently at the junction between her neck and shoulder, making her gasp.

"Yes.  _Yes_."

He hums his approval and adjust his position, finally entering her, thrusting into her so very slowly. The feeling of him hard inside her is well-known and all new at the same time. She wonders why they've never tried this position before. She can't take him too deep but she's tighter around him, her eyes fall close as she loses herself in the feel and the Doctor grunts softly against her shoulder. It's a positively erotic sound, low in his throat. What she likes about making love to him, aside from the obvious things, is how unrestrained, how open he is, he who is always so controlled and unreadable.

He sets an agonisingly slow pace, making her feel every inch of him sliding in and out of her. He keeps his mouth busy at her neck and shoulder, his fingers toying with her hardened nipples until she's crying out his name.

"Do you like it when I touch you, Clara?" he asks. "When I  _fuck_  you?"

He never uses this kind of language, not even in the bedroom, so she can tell this too is part of the game. He obviously knows the answer already but for some reason she feels compelled to answer.

"Yes,  _fuck_ , yes, I do."

She's absurdly sensitive after almost reaching orgasm and nearly every thrust of his cock causes a new rush of wetness. And frankly being tied up and having him still half clothed as he talks dirty to her is straight out of a fantasy she wasn't even aware she had until now. Not being allowed to touch him is extremely frustrating, but the frustration turns into pleasure somehow.

He thrusts slightly harder into her.

"Can you feel how hard I am for you?" His breath is becoming uneven and heavy in her ear. "All without laying a finger on me. All just by watching you."

Fuck. She doesn't recall ever telling him how much she likes the sound of his voice and the fact that just his words can make her eyes nearly roll back into her skull is absolutely, completely unfair. Her breath rate increases rapidly and she can distinctly feel her inner muscles contract more firmly around him.

"You love it when I talk to you, don't you?"

No, she can't answer that, he already knows every single button she needs him to push, she shouldn't give him any more power. She  _won't_  give him any more power.

He claims his answer by pulling gently at her earlobe, moving his hand from her breasts to her clit and moving it in circles in time with the strokes of his cock in and out of her, suddenly faster and harder now, building up his own climax.

" _Yes._ "

She arches her back and pushes down against him in response, eyes shut, heat and electricity rushing down her spine.

"Yes what, Clara?"

There's probably a smile in his voice but now she can't really tell, her mind is too busy concentrating on how good this feels, his body inside hers, his mouth leaving possessive marks on her shoulder, his deft hand between her legs. Now more than ever her wrists battle with the knot of his cravat, she desperately wants to touch him, firmly press her hand on his ass and push him closer, guide his fingers in the rhythm she needs.

"God, Doctor."

At this point she's writhing against him and moaning softly at every thrust, new sweat appearing on her skin. She can feel the well-known tightening, the tension coiling between her legs. The Doctor groans helplessly when she clenches harder around him and his body shudders.

"My Clara. Come for me," he breathes.

She can feel his chest warm against her back, raising and falling rapidly, his hearts beating like drums. She wants to kiss him. To catch every sound he makes and let it reverberate through her bones. Just the thought makes her shiver. She tugs hard at the black fabric tying her wrists. Then, his fingers rub against her just a little harder and she tumbling over the edge, pleasure rippling down her spine, shaking her body as she cries out his name.

The Doctor buries his head in her hair, breath shallow as he thrusts through her orgasm, her walls tight around him, both his hands grabbing her hips until his body is jerking involuntarily into hers and then stilling as he comes, hard, groaning against her skin.

Minutes pass in silence, the only sounds in the room the ones of their breaths gradually returning to normal. He slides out of her carefully and they both let out a small whimper at the separation, bodies sensitive and hyperaware of each other.

He forces himself sitting with a sigh to free her wrists, asks if she needs water, anything, if he hurt her. She shakes her head and he leans in for a kiss. She kisses him sloppily as she massages her slightly bruised skin, doesn't leave his lips until she forgets to breathe through her nose and she's gasping for air. He gets rid of his trousers and there's a smug smile on his face when they eventually lie down under the blanket.

"That good, uh?"

"Shut up," she chastises, but she's smiling too. "Did  _you_  like it?"

He scoffs. "Yeah.  _A lot_." He pulls her a little closer and starts to run his hand affectionately through her hair, which spreads warm shivers on her skin. "I can tell why you like it so much. But I think I like it better when you are the boss. I don't think this is really my thing."

"Really?" she asks, surprised. "You were very good at it."

Another smug smile, and a mischievous spark in his eyes.

"Oh, was I now?"

She refuses to answer that. They're silent again as he strokes her hair and she adjusts her position in his arms, eyelids becoming heavy. 

"I love you," she murmurs.

"I love you too." He nuzzles against her and just from the way he moves she can tell he's about to fall asleep as well.

"Tomorrow night I'm going to make you pay for making me wait, you know."

He freezes, taken aback, but then his body relaxes in a small laugh.

"I expect nothing less, boss."


End file.
